As Good as Gold
by Ford.Ye.Fiji
Summary: Mike Schmidt had absolutely no idea what he was getting into when he applied to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. He certainly wasn't expecting murderous animatronics, the ghosts of dead children, or what was possibly the worst pizzeria in the world would change his life forever. - "Gold opens all locks, no lock will hold against the power of gold." Rated M for language and violence
1. Part 1: won't you come and play

**A/N: I've been wanting to write this fic since I first discovered fnaf, but I just couldn't get it right XD I'm so excited that I'm finally posting it! Also this fic really just messes around with all established canon. I've gone back to old stuff, like fnaf 1, Foxy did the bite of '87 type stuff. I'm also disregarding that fnaf 2 takes place before 1 and some of the Fazbear's fright canon. Ugh I'm just so nervous. Oh! also a forewarning! Mike curses, like a lot. I try not to write so much language but uhhh Mike was refusing to work with me. So yeah. But, anyway! Without further ado XD**

**Part 1: The Night Shift**

Mike Schmidt straightened his thin black tie, grimacing at the tight fit of his baby blue uniform. The dark pizzeria was too hot, far too hot even for the sheer material of the long sleeved button down. Mike grimaced and rolled up his sleeves, unbuttoning the cuffs before he folded them up around his elbows.

Feeling a little better, he turned and marched toward the office. His night guard hat on the counter made him pause. Mike sighed and then snagged it off of the counter. He eyed it carefully before grimacing and putting it on, covering his shock of dull dun hair completely. He could already feel his skull being squeezed by the thick band of black elastic. The last guy who'd worn the uniform had been tall and thin if the too long and yet too small uniform was anything to go by.

He picked at his frayed dark shoulder straps absentmindedly. Even his name tag was worn, the middle taped up many times from constant abuse, cracks in the black plastic barely visible from underneath the shreds of torn stickers. He could see layers of them with names written hastily in sharpie all by the same crooked hand. He knew because his new boss had scrawled Mike on one and then slapped the sticker over the last name before handing it over with a wide disgustingly fake smile.

He could just make out an S from under his own name-tag. Well, hopefully his predecessor had moved out of this awful place and onto better and brighter things. The uncharacteristic optimism had him curling his lips with distaste. No doubt the former night guard was busting his ass at some other trashy fast food place. Though even that seemed like an improvement compared to here, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Mike shuddered under the glassy eyes of the animatronics and scuttled towards his office.

The clock ticked steadily towards twelve as the twenty-three year old relaxed in the precarious rolling chair, grimacing as it squeaked in protest at his thin frame. Mike kicked his feet up, fiddling with the tablet for the cameras. The boss (Alfred call me 'Al') had explained his set up earlier that week in a jovial tone that set Mike's teeth on edge, the employees who had to deal with him during the day had the patience of a saint. The heavy thickset man never stopped spouting company lines about the joys of Freddy Fazbear's, nor did he ever seem to remove the cigar from between his puffy lips. The man was unmovable when it came to company policy. He hadn't even allowed Mike to wear anything comfortable to work, citing the uniform as a required and honorable symbol of the Fazbear establishment. He'd tacked on at the end of it too, that he should be grateful it wasn't worse. Apparently the old uniforms had been purple.

Mike's nose wrinkled at the remembered speech. The man was full of bullshit.

Mike needed the job though, which was why he'd taken it. It couldn't be too hard, right? Watch a couple creepy animatronics, make sure no one broke in to steal them, maybe try not to fall asleep. Perhaps if he got too bored he could remove the unsettling cartoonish company posters from the wall of his office.

Mike relaxed and the whine of the generators and the fan became a steady hum in the background. He eyed the heavy doors skeptically, lips thinning. Al had pressed the red door buttons for him on his impromptu tour and laughed when he jumped as what seemed to be quite a few pounds of steel slammed into the ground with surprising force. He'd given no explanation for their purpose. What did he expect to try and get in here? The national guard?

The clock struck twelve and Mike jumped as the bright red phone on the desk rang insistently.

"_Hello. Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now as a matter of fact._"

Mike raised an eyebrow, ah this was S. He set his chin in his hands and flipped through the cameras again, idly listening to the fuzzy message on the landline.

"_So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine. So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay?_"

Mike scoffed. Overwhelming? Hardly.

"_Uh, let's see first there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read. Uh, i- it's kind of a legal thing, you know. Um, 'Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life._"

Mike snorted. Al had probably made him read that. What an asshole. Phone guy continued speaking blithely, oblivious to his successor's amusement about his former boss.

"_Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon as property and premises have been throughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced. Blah blah blah._"

Mike had straightened over the course of his shpiel, something cold trailing down his spine like ghostly fingertips.

"_Now, that might sound bad, I know, but there's really nothing to worry about._"

Mike spluttered, "Are you serious?"

Phone Guy kept talking and Mike's mouth snapped shut as he nattered on, "_Uh, the animatronic characters here do get a bit quirkyat night, but do I blame them? No. If I were forced to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years and I never got a bath? I'd probably be a bit irritable at night too. So remember, these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children and we need to show them a little respect, right? Okay._"

Mike mouthed cautiously, "_Quirky?_"

"_So just be aware, the characters do tend to wander a bit. Uh, they're left in some kind of free roaming mode at night. Uh... Something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long. Uh, they used to be allowed to walk around during the day too. But then there was The Bite of '87. Yeah. I- it's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, you know?_"

Mike squeaked. What was this guy on? What the fu-

"_Uh, now concerning your safety, the only real risk to you as a night watchman here, if any, is the fact that these characters, Uh, if they happened to see you after hours, probably won't recognize you as a person. They'll p- most likely see you as a metal Endoskeleton without its costume on. Now since that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to... uh, forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit. Um, now that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices, especially around the facial area. So, you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort... and death._"

_Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck_-

Phone Guy continued on, something macabre in his cheerful tone, "_Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask, heh._"

_WHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCK_-

"_Y- Yeah they don't tell you these things when you sign up. But hey, first day should be a breeze. I'll chat with you tomorrow._"

Mike looked down at his tablet, still clutched in his white-knuckled hands. His eyes widened, mouth dry as a chill settled in his bones. The purple rabbit animatronic was missing from the stage.

"_Uh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night._"

Mike panicked flipping through the sections till he found it, nearly jumping out of his skin as he saw the looming black shadow of the bunny staring into the camera, almost as if it knew he was there, watching them.

Mike looked down, and then shut the tablet down when he saw the power. 49%. His mind whirled. He'd been wasting power simply looking at the cameras. He glanced at the doors and lights, stomach twisting itself in knots. Oh god. He couldn't barricade himself in here by closing the doors without sucking down the power before 6 am. _Who_ had designed this shit system?

The longest five minutes of his life passed before he risked checking the cameras again. The bunny was gone. He flipped frantically through the cameras before finding it again, standing in the middle of the dining area and grinningat him.

Mike tried to calm his pounding heart, cursing his family's history of high blood pressure. He could do this. He could do this.

And he did, just managing to keep his panicking to a minimum and flipping through the cameras as little as possible. Right until 5 am rolled around and the chicken vanished from the stage. Al had insisted they had names and Mike had foolishly thought it was stupid talking about them as if they were alive.

He was so stupid. So fucking stupid.

He flipped through the cameras sweating bullets, almost physically feeling the power draining. The bunny, Bonnie, Al had called it, was looming at the end of the hallway to his right. Had it teleported? The thing was fast. And so was the chicken, Chica, it's bright feathers just visible in the hallway to his left.

They were _cornering_ him. Herding him like some sort of caged animal. Mike swallowed, flicking the lights to his right. Bonnie grinned at him through the window and Mike shrieked, slamming the door button.

A moment later he realized that he'd forgotten about Chica, he flipped up the cameras, but the chicken had moved back to the restrooms, beak hanging open ominously. Mike whimpered, who put teeth in a chicken animatronic? Had they never seen a damn chicken before? Didn't they know chickens didn't fuckin' _have_ teeth?

19%

Mike slammed down the tablet refusing to look at it again.

Bonnie staring unblinkingly at him outside his door.

The numbers dropped steadily.

The rabbit seemed to grow bored around 15% and wandered off again. Mike breathed out with relief as he let the door up and flicked the lights on in the other side of the room as an afterthought. Chica leered at him from the left and Mike slammed that door down, heart pounding.

He couldn't _do_ anything. The numbers dropped, somehow going down faster the lower it got. He needed it to move! Mike snapped at the chicken who had stuck stubbornly there for ten precious percentage points, "_Oh_ fuck off, will you?"

Chica vanished.

Mike gaped.

Had it understood him?

He flicked the lights.

It was gone.

He pulled up the cameras, carefully. Bonnie had retreated to the dining room. Chica was nowhere to be found. He clicked frantically through the cameras before landing on the kitchen, the audio clattering like pots and pans. He didn't want to know what it was doing in there, just as long as it was far away from him.

He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction before he noticed the numbers. Two percent.

Mike dropped the tablet on the table. His fingers itched but he didn't dare pick it up again, instead choosing to hold his breath and listen as hard as he could for heavy metal footsteps. The damn things were unnaturally quiet, however, and he didn't hear a thing except the buzzing of the fan.

A whisper in the room and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled- he turned the lights on, slamming the door button when he saw Bonnie glaring at him with crimson eyes through the window.

That damn _rabbit-!_

The lights went out interrupting his frantic train of thought, and the power died with a whoosh.

Mike was plastered to his seat, breath stolen from his lungs as he waited in the sudden darkness. Everything was quiet and still, the whole world muted in a flash. Mike gulped audibly as the Toreador March echoed throughout the restaurant. White wide eyes blinked at him, flickering on and off.

Oh _fuck_.

This was how he was going to die.

Animatronics were going to stuff him in a suit, he was going to end up as bits and pieces of gore jammed into some fucking robot suit in a shitty family restaurant with pizza that tasted like ass.

He braced himself as the music went silent and the eyes blinked out.

Something, however, in the distance, chimed.

A clock.

Six peals and then, the lights flickered on.

_6 am._

Mike breathed out, a hand pressed to his racing heart, head between his knees.

The animatronics were gone.

He'd made it.

And like hell was he ever going to do that shit again.

* * *

Mike waited until ten minutes after six to leave the office. He stumbled past the animatronics in the darkened restaurant and Mike scowled at them perched on the stage as if nothing had ever happened.

He did the mature thing and flipped them off. Mike pushed open the glass doors and frowned at the pickup truck idling in the parking lot. The man leaning on it waved, "Lookit you! You made it!"

Mike locked the doors of the pizzeria, "Excuse me?"

The man strolled up, green baseball cap pulled low over white hair, "Oh, I'm Alan. The janitor. I clean up the messes. Me 'n Liam that is." He grinned, scratching the light scruff on his chin. Liam must've been the shadow slouched in his pickup, sleeping in the passenger seat.

"The messes?"

Alan's grin widened, words slurred as he chewed on something, "Suppose you know by now. I clean up the messes, son. You know what I'm talking about."

Mike felt himself go pale, "Isn't that, isn't that _illegal?_"

Alan laughed, "Well, shoot, you got 'em. It's illegal." He snickered and Mike realized what he was chewing from the awful smell- tobacco, "Naw son, you signed the nondisclosure agreement same as all of us. Can't spill a word without getting sued."

Mike had signed a big sheet of papers but, he hadn't- he hadn't read through the thing-

Alan chortled at the drawing realization on his face, "You'd think corporate would let word get out that they have demon robots murdering their night watchmen? Heck no. Especially since they've been barely keeping the place afloat since those poor children died."

Mike had remembered that rumor before he applied but he hadn't thought- oh fuck-

"Say, son, you looking a little gray. You sure they didn't get a bite outta you?"

Mike snapped, "Oh fuck off, asshole."

Alan held up his hands, laughing as if the whole thing was a joke, "Whoa there, son, you've got some fire in ya, don't you?"

He stormed away toward his dented car under the street lamp, "Tell Al that I quit!"

"Hey, wait, you can't do that-!"

Mike whirled, "And why the hell not?"

Alan nodded at the pizzeria behind him, suddenly somber, "At least half of the night guards don't get past the first night, and as soon as you're gone the boss'll just hire another. And I'll have another mess to clean up soon enough."

Mike blinked.

"There'll be another missing person report eighty-nine days later, the company will pay off any worried relatives, keep everything hush hush, and people will keep dying."

Mike threw up his hands, "So? Why not just get rid of the position?"

Alan shrugged, "Better one man a night than the whole block. Who the hell knows what'll happen if they get out?"

His adrenaline was wearing off as he stood in the cold parking lot, so Mike bid a tactical retreat from the janitor's disturbingly rational explanations, gave him the bird as well, and resumed his walk to the car.

Alan shook his head watching the new night guard collapse into his car and drive off. The kid would be back, he could feel it in his bones.

Something told him he wouldn't have to clean up another body for a good long while.


	2. move quick, be an artful dodger

**A/N: I FORGOT TO CROSS POST THIS HERE AHHHH sorry guys imma catch ya'll up**

**Part 1: The Nightshift**

Mike was batshit crazy.

He had to be. There was no way in hell he was back in that red plastic swivel chair, tablet slick in his suddenly sweaty palms.

Somehow he was.

He needed the money though. He'd been living out of his car for a week and even if the pay was shit, it was just enough combined with the money from his day job to help him afford an apartment.

And no, he wasn't here because of Alan's dumbass speech. He wasn't some bleeding heart trying to save people too stupid to save themselves from three ridiculous murder robots.

Mike shuddered as the phone rang.

"_Err, hello! Hello? Uhh... well, if you're hearing this, you made it to day two. Uhh, congrats! I-I won't talk quite as long this time since Freddy and his friends tend to become more active as the week progresses._"

Mike gaped remembering his near brush with death just last night, "Are you shitting me?"

"_Umm...you might need to go ahead and peek at those cameras while I talk; just to make sure everyone is in their proper place, ya know?_"

Mike cursed and flicked through the cameras cautiously as Phone Guy continued.

"_Uhh, interestingly enough, Freddy himself doesn't come off stage very often. I heard he becomes a lot more active in the dark, though, sooo hey, I guess that's one more reason not to run out of power, right? I also want to emphasize the importance of using your door lights: uhh, there are blind-spots in your camera views and the blind spots happen to be right outside your door, so if you can't find something, or someone on your cameras, be sure to check the door-lights._"

Mike rolled his eyes as he spat out under his breath, "Your warning was a little late there, _buddy._"

"_Uhh, you might have only a few seconds to react, but... not that you would be in any danger of course, I'm not implying that._"

Mike sighed, the guy probably didn't want to get sued for breaking 'company policy' by warning the guards about the slaughter they were in for.

"_Also: check on the curtain in Pirate Cove from time to time; the character in there seems unique in that it becomes more active if the cameras remain off for long periods of time. I guess he doesn't like being watched. I don't know._"

Mike flipped the cameras to pirate cove, swallowing back the knot of fear hiding in the back of his throat. Four ridiculous murder robots then. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"_Anyway, I'm sure you have everything under control. Uhh... talk to you soon!_"

The phone clicked off, the air chilled unnaturally, and Mike settled in for a long night.

* * *

Night two and three passed relatively quickly though the latter ended with Mike burying his head in his hands trying to breathe through the panic attack Foxy had brought on. How the hell did such a busted up trash heap run so fast? He shuddered as he thought of the gleaming rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth and the silver wickedly pointed hook. He'd thought Freddy was bad, blocking cameras with his shadowy silhouette and piercingly white pinpoint pupils.

It took a good ten minutes but his breathing evened out, his heart slowed, and the room stopped spinning in odd little jerks. Worst of all, tonight, he could've sworn he heard whispers, something guttural in the back of his head, in some hellish language he couldn't understand. The damn job was giving him hallucinations.

He didn't want to think back to when they'd started, unintelligible and triggering some sort of visceral horror in his brain. They'd began after he'd blinked and seen that golden bear suit, a perfect replica of Freddy slumped in the office- glitching and shimmering, hissing through an imaginary grin, "**_IT'S ME_.**" Entirely translucent and hallucinogenic except for its empty eyes begging him for _something_.

Mike rubbed his aching eyes with his palms and jumped when he heard a familiar rasping voice, "Oh good. I was worried I'd have to check the back room for you, son."

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose, "_Fuck off,_ Alan."

Alan tsked and looked around the room, "Ah, the room where all the magic happens. Say, is it chilly in here or what?" He rubbed his arms, "I thought it usually ran hot in here." The janitor eyed the fan as if, perhaps, it was the culprit.

Mike glowered at him and Alan whistled, "Go home and sleep it off son, you're sporting some impressive eye bags there."

Mike checked the watch on his left hand and sighed, "I don't have time for your crap I've got to go clean an auto parts store in thirty minutes."

Alan raised a bushy eyebrow, "If you keep working two jobs you'll get sleep deprived, mess up, and get stuffed, son."

Mike's lip curled, anger fueled because he knew he was right- that his death was inevitable. No one could go very long without making one mistake and that's all it would take for him to get brutally, mercilessly killed.

Phone Guy had though.

That cheerful sonvabitch was off living his best life. Mike's usually low spirits lifted, "I'd like to see those bastards try." He stood, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair and leaving down the east hallway, his voice echoing, "You hear that shitheads? You aren't getting any of this sweet ass anytime soon!"

Alan pretended not to hear the bell jingle violently from all the way across the pizzeria, as well as Mike's distant irritated, "Outta my way, Liam!"

Alan shook his head, "He's a cocky SOB huh, Scott?" He patted the shiny red phone, the only piece of equipment that looked as if it had been bought sometime in the last decade, "Think he'll do us proud?"

After a moment of silence, Alan nodded, grinning wryly, "Me too."


	3. a memorial, a crescendo, of hysteria

**Part 1: The Nightshift**

Mike settled down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and feeling positively sick despite the draft. The phone rang. Mike waited for Phone Guy's usual rambling messages. Sometimes he could be annoyingly vague, disturbingly unconcerned, and sickeningly positive about certain aspects of the Job From Hell, but he'd sort of become a companion. Someone who had experienced his share of hell and stayed remarkably human through it all.

"_Hello, hello! Hey! Hey wow, day four... I knew you could do it._"

Mike flipped through the cameras, used to the routine of it all by now. He would never admit it, but hearing Phone Guy's voice was strangely reassuring.

"_Hey, listen...I might not be around to send you a message tomorrow._" Mike paused, jerking upwards as he heard Foxy's familiar slamming. It took a minute for him to realize where it was coming from, the ominous banging fizzing distantly through the recording from the phone.

Mike felt something icy slide down his back.

"_It's-It's been a bad night here._" More relentless banging that made Mike cower in remembered terror.

He'd thought his fellow night watchman had made it.

He'd thought wrong.

"_For me. Umm... I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you..._" Phone Guy cleared his throat, "_er, when I did._"

Mike waited breathlessly. He knew what was coming and so did his nameless, faceless guardian.

"_H-hey, do me a favor:_" The former night guard tried to speak over the deafening pounding on the metal doors, "_maybe sometime, eh, you could check inside those suits, in-in the back room?_" More pounding. The animalistic instinct for self preservation he'd developed over the week panicked and kept ringing alarm bells at the banging over the recording.

The man rasped, voice thick, speaking a dead man's words, the phone merely a mouthpiece for the long gone, "_I'ma try to hold out...until someone...checks. Maybe it won't be so bad._" Something ached, to know that this was how it all ended for the one person who knew what it was like facing certain death every night for four bucks an hour.

"_I- I- I always wondered what was in those empty heads...back there-_" the chime Mike had heard from the first night played faintly in a cheerful sort of melody, "_You know... Oh no-"_ he cut off.

Mike grimaced as some sort of horrible warbled screeching filled with static overwhelmed the phone's speakers. He heard one last gargle, disturbingly human against such an inhuman wail, before the speaker cut out.

Mike jumped as he heard something creak and he reacted on instinct alone, slamming the door button down to his right. Mike was breathing heavily something shining wetly in his eyes.

Mike turned the light on and Bonnie leered at him. Mike stood, trembling with some newfound fury, "You motherfuckers!" He kicked the red swivel chair, "You murdered him!" A rage he didn't know he possessed filled him, the air tinted yellow.

Without really intending to, Phone Guy had become some sort of symbol in his mind, a hope, that _someone_ could make it. That death wasn't inevitable in the end. He'd become a friendly face, or voice really.

The animatronic left after a moment, red eyes blazing with something undefinable. The overwhelming wrath settled uncomfortably in his chest and Mike shook his head, coming back to his senses. He opened the door, flipping through the cameras quickly, dreading the night, that newfound hope shattered.

He couldn't seem to get in air, eyes wild as he looked for the monstrous machines hunting him down, trying to avoid his new undeniable truth.

Death was inevitable, it would come for him in the end, and it would be to the tune of the Toreador March.


	4. Phantasmagorical

**Part 1: The Nightshift **

Chica watched the Night Guard leave their pizzeria promptly at 6:01 for once, shoulders hunched and shaking. She clacked her teeth together with annoyance, watching him escape unscathed and unashamed of his blatant disobedience of Fazbear rules.

She tried to ignore the murmurs of her Child whimpering in the back of her head and spoke, "That Endoskeleton has a foul mouth."

Bonnie scoffed from his place on the stage, rolling his red optics, "You got that right, and he doesn't even put anything in the swear jar afterwords!" There was a strange strained undertone in his usual playfulness and Chica opened her beak to question it but Freddy hushed them in garbled tones.

His voice module was still on the fritz after the lucky hit that last Night Guard had gotten in. Chica didn't think she'll ever forget it. The endoskeleton's thin fingers frantically reaching, wedging themselves under Freddy's worn suit, snagging on a cluster of colorful wires and _pulling_, "No.. ta_a_alking... s- six-_x-x_-x-"

Chica patted the bear's shoulder with one of her tattered yellow wings, "There, there, Freddy. We'll be quiet now."

She returned to her default pose, servos whirring. She could already feel them stiffening at the inactivity.

Chica's bright optics caught sight of Foxy peering out of the curtain at Pirate's Cove before vanishing again, silver hook gleaming. They hadn't had time to talk to him since the new Night Guard had taken over a mere week after the last one had been put away.

She missed him. She couldn't imagine what it was like, all alone in the darkness of the abandoned Pirate's Cove everyday, listening to the children playing and not being able to join in.

The Child whimpered as the car started up outside. Chica let her eyes wander, watching it speed away, their rude rogue Endoskeleton inside.

Their creator really needed to design better Endoskeletons. They didn't seem to fit inside any suits and broke almost immediately no matter how careful they were. They were ridiculously delicate and soft and utterly unsuitable. She almost giggled. _Literally_.

The Child in the back of her head wailed, growing bolder at the Night Guard's absence. It pulled insistently at her insides, harsh whispers guttural and too jumbled to be understood clearly. Despair, fear, and hatred churning together confusingly in a knot of pure unbridled terror, "_notsafenotsafenotsafegetawayfromthenightguardkillkiLLKILL-_"

The Children always got upset when the Night Guard got away. Especially this one, far too familiar in his violent outbursts and angry cursing.

Chica might actually enjoy catching this one.

Perhaps it was better this time that the flimsy squishy Endoskeletons seemed to break so easily.

This Night Guard didn't seem like he'd make a particularly family friendly animatronic anyways.

* * *

Bonnie, meanwhile, didn't feel right at all.

He'd started right on time that night, moving quickly to the door. He'd thought it was his chance to get the Night Guard, maybe this time he'd put this angry endoskeleton to rest for good. But with almost unbelievable speed, the Endo had slammed the button, the door grazing his stained purple fur as it raced towards the ground.

The Endo had stood, hissing and something cold had shivered down his servos. The Child in his mind shrank away like a dying animal, sniffling and weeping with terror. The Endo had kicked the chair shouting profanities and Bonnie had realized why he was filled with gut-wrenching terror.

The drop in temperature. The chill pervading his suit and reaching for the child he shielded within, the golden glow filling the office's interior. The unbridled rage pushing against the doors in its intensity.

Hadn't the Endo even realized that the fury it was feeling was not entirely it's own? Bonnie could always tell when his Child took over, uncharacteristic anger forcing him onwards against his will, whipping him into a frenzy. The Night Guard's blue optics had swirled, eyes turned black, glowering at him through white pinprick pupils. The form of Golden Freddy had flickered around the Night Guard, laughing at him. He could hear him now, whispering, "**_IT'S ME. I-I-I- IT'S ME._**"

Bonnie had retreated down the hallway before he saw what happened, feeling the pressure build in his head at the presence of the fifth ghost.

Seeing the guard walk out of the building at the end of the night with normal blue optics had made him almost weak with relief. The Endo had shrugged off the other ghost.

But only this time. What about the next time? Would he be able to resist the ghost's influence? They needed to stuff the Endo before Golden Freddy fully became its suit. It wasn't just a hunt now, it was a race against time.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the click of the key in the lock. The janitor, Alan, shook his head at the three of them, "I take it from the missing car that y'all failed again?" He chuffed and Bonnie wanted to shake him. Didn't he realize that was a bad thing?

Alan grinned at him from under his beard, "That Mike, he's stronger than any of y'all realize. I've got a feeling about him. Yer not gonna catch that son of a gun anytime soon. He's a feisty little thing."

Humans had sort of a sixth sense about these things and the Child whimpered in his mind, curling into a tighter ball. He would tell the others later, after Alan left. They needed to know what was coming.


	5. hear them laughing underneath

**A/N: and this is the end of Part 1! And ya'll are all caught up with AO3 now XD**

**Part**** 1: The Nightshift**

Was it just him or were the robots especially driven tonight?

Mike wiped the sweat from his forehead, pushing the shiny brim of his cap upwards as he did it. He shuddered as he remembered settling into Phone Guy's old chair earlier that night. He could've sworn he had felt the weight of a million ghosts laying on his shoulders, a hundred night guards who'd done what he was doing now and who'd died doing it. The phone ringing a second later had startled him so badly he'd cursed out the annoyingly bright object.

The static growls and hellish whispers, something that sounded like words but not in any language he understood, hissing and clanking still made him shiver. The office had been startling empty after the phone had clicked off.

The ominous noises had almost made Mike throw up, but the message had also triggered something furious in him. He was probably a dead man walking, but like hell was he gonna leave this pizzeria now. They'd thrown down the gauntlet and what little common sense he'd had was thrown out the window.

Mike had never quite been able to let go of a challenge. His mom had often told him he was like a dog with a bone.

Mike had started scrolling through the cameras, spotting Freddy already on the move, blocking one of the cameras. He'd grinned like a madman and murmured, "Hello, hello you sonvabitch."

That had been four hours ago and Mike was giddy. Five am with 39% power left? Hell, he was on fire tonight. He'd reached some sort of dissociative state around two and now he was high on the adrenaline of it all. Was some sick part of him enjoying this? Perhaps. It wouldn't last he knew, he'd be back to being completely terrified soon, but not now. Not now. No, he was enjoying rubbing it in the animatronic's faces that he was still alive, still kicking, and that he'd manage to flip the bird at them several times.

Mike flipped through the cameras and dropped the tablet, slamming the red button down. The door hit the floor and half a second later, Foxy slammed into it at record speeds. Mike stuck out his tongue at the door as the damn thing furiously pounded on it. The steel didn't move an inch and Mike called out half jokingly as he perused the cameras at record speeds, "Who's there?"

"**_IT'S ME._**"

Mike jumped nearly half a foot, eyes wide as he searched for the freaky golden bear hallucination that had said that on night three.

He didn't see it anywhere.

Mike jerked back to reality and opened the door before it could drain anymore power. His fickle euphoria was gone, replaced by an itch at the back of his mind.

Was it just him or was a pressure building in the back of his head? Or was that just the tightness of his hat?

He checked on Freddy and Foxy quickly before flicking the lights.

"**_M- M- MiCHaeL..._**"

Mike glanced around the room.

It was just a hallucination. It wasn't real.

The power had dropped astronomically. Mike blinked, how on earth?

"**_MIcHaEl..._**"

"Shut up!" He shut the door on Chica's hideous tooth filled beak, "I don't have time for a mental breakdown right now!"

The golden form of the bear flickered in the corner of his eyes and Mike ignored it, picking up the tablet again. It wasn't there, it wasn't there, _it wasn't there._

"**_He- he- heLp usSsSSs._"**

Mike opened Chica's door and checked on Foxy ignoring the insidious voice and the golden fire growing in the back of his brain and the pressure filling the room like a balloon about to pop. _Notrealnotrealnotreal-_

The clock struck six.

The bear vanished, the whispers drowned out by the toll of the bell. _Salvation._

Mike breathed out and collapsed on the table, head pressed to the sticky wood, hands reaching up to thread under his bending cap and through his sweaty hair hidden underneath it.

He'd finished his first week.

If Al didn't give him a raise and a uniform that fit, Mike was going to do bodily harm to the man.

* * *

Alan and Liam were outside waiting for Mike to lock up. Liam was quiet, as usual, black security hat pulled low, dark eyes watching the night watchman from under the brim. Mike hadn't seen them since Wednesday and he sighed, eyeing the janitor who was chewing tobacco yet again. Mike wrinkled his nose, "That stuff'll make your teeth fall out."

Alan spit, "Already did. 'M wearing dentures."

Mike grimaced and Alan leaned against his pickup, "Well? Should I hand in your notice to the boss?"

Mike snorted, "You wish you could get rid of me." He shook his head and started towards his car, shoulders hunched as Alan laughed, "You got gumption, son!"

Mike rolled his eyes, but stopped. He turned on his heel and tilted his head, "How long did the last guy last?"

Alan sobered quickly. He took his time before answering, spitting again, oblivious to the night guard's disgust, "He was the longest we ever had. Eleven months."

"...Were you friends?"

Alan grinned, but his eyes were empty, "Son, night guards don't have friends here." The 'they tend to die quickly' part was left unsaid.

Mike knew a lie when he saw one. He wasn't stupid, but he didn't dig deeper, "Well, don't get rid of the office phone then. The guy left some helpful messages for future hires." He sighed and added, "Don't listen to Thursday's message. It fucking sucks."

Alan shook his head fondly, "Scott wasn't supposed to do that. It's against company policy."

So that was Phone Guy. S. Scott. Mike lifted his chin, "Fuck company policy." He shoved his hands in his pants pockets, "Don't delete those messages. Make sure they stay on there if I ever... if I ever quit."

Mike started toward his car again before throwing over his shoulder, "And tell Al to get me a better uniform, Scott was a fucking beanpole!"

Liam snickered, the first noise he'd heard the man make since he'd met him.

Mike slammed his car door harder than he should've and sighed with relief. He'd finished his first week at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.


	6. Part 2: swift sharp needles

**A/N: a very short chapter for you all! Sorry, I might put up another chapter tomorrow to make up for it. XD thank you so much for the reviews! I love reading them! **

**Part 2: once more unto the breach**

Al folded his pudgy fingers together before deciding against it and transferring his cigar to his hand so he could talk, "Michael, you've been with us a year now at Freddy Fazbear's, our wonderful little safe haven for family friendly entertainment."

Mike nodded, "Yessir." He resisted the urge to tack on some less than flattering expletives. In the year since he'd started at Freddy Fazbear's (absolutely _not_ a safe haven and most definitely not family friendly) Mike had gained quite a few bumps and bruises from some close calls, as well as a handful of scars. The animatronics had gotten pretty damn close a couple of times, especially when he had chosen to clock in some overtime when his situation had gotten desperate.

Still, he had his apartment now, and the highest amount he'd ever had in savings, which wasn't saying much. He'd even gotten his pay raised to six dollars about six months ago (an extraordinary undertaking) and he'd had his new resized uniform since the end of week two.

He honestly didn't know why he hadn't quit. It wasn't because he was the best person for the job, as he had more experience than anyone else on the planet with the murderous robots, or because he was that 'good of a guy.' Mike wasn't nice or self-sacrificial, he had enough common sense to know _that_. So it didn't make any sense for him to still be here now that he didn't need to be.

Wouldn't it be nice, after all, to get a full night's sleep for once? Instead of the five or six spare hours he had between jobs?

However, despite all rationality, he had no intention of quitting.

Al's words snapped him back, "-and your pay will be raised to twelve dollars an hour-"

Mike spluttered, "Wait- what?"

Al blinked, "I know you're thinking of quitting." He smiled in what he probably thought was a jolly way, "You're one of our best and most valued employees. We can't have you walking out on us."

Mike blinked. Twelve bucks an hour... he hadn't really been thinking that hard about it, it had only been at the back of his mind. Still, someone had to keep Al on his toes. Mike stood and shook his boss's hand, painfully fake sharklike smile in place, "Thank you, sir. I'll keep that in mind."

That was obviously not the overwhelmingly positive response Al had expected but he nodded and stuck his cigar back in his mouth.

Al added around his cigar as Mike left, "Get some sun, Schmidt! You look a little grey!"

* * *

Foxy watched the elusive night watchman clock in for his next shift. Tonight was the night that Endo got its due, he was sure of it. He was going to catch the persistent landlubber and he was gonna personally deliver him to Freddy. The old fella's voice box still acted up occasionally, never having been repaired right after the accident with the last endoskeleton, the one that had previously held the record before this 'Mike' came along.

Chica called him Mikey and seemed intent on telling them they would all be friends after the Endo got a suit. As if. Chica didn't want to face the truth that no matter how stubborn Mike was now, he was probably just as soft and squishy and ill fitting as the rest of the Night Guards.

The clock struck twelve and Foxy braced himself.

Technically, this was against The Rules. None of them had ever broken The Rules before, not even the Night Guard. Hopefully Freddy and the others would understand. This had gone on too long and they needed to stop it. The Child in the back of his mind pulsed excitedly, just as viciously eager as he was to end it once and for all.

* * *

At approximately 12:05 on Tuesday morning, at least according to Mike's watch and the pizzeria time, Mike was tense and waiting for Bonnie and Chica to start making their rounds. His hat was pulled low over his blue eyes, brown hair hidden under his blue cap, tie loosened just a tad and sleeves rolled up to prevent from snagging on anything when he was inevitably forced to lunge for the door buttons. Everything was as expected, even the cold that persisted despite the fan's absence.

Until, Mike startled, dropping the tablet to grab at his ears as the voice of Golden Freddy screeched, the lightbulbs flickering and the air sharply dropping in temperature.

Mike stood, coughing, trying to figure out what _the hell_ was happening.

The animatronics never broke pattern not like this and _shit_ his head was going to split open just from _the fucking noise-!_

He finally made out the thing's words, "**_GEeeEeT Ou-U-UT!_**"

He turned towards the left door, and his eyes widened- Foxy was barreling straight at him- somehow completely silent, eyes black, pupils pinpricks, jaw opened wide- he didn't even have the second needed to hit the button- Mike ducked and everything went black as the fox slammed into him.


	7. little children went astray

**Part 2: once more unto the breach**

Mike opened his eyes. He frowned and then closed them again.

There didn't seem to be any difference between the two.

Was he dead? Had he been stuffed?

Mike sat up, or he thought he sat up. He couldn't even see his own hand in front of his face. He cleared his throat, "Hello?"

He jumped when at his words, the world gained form and feature. He was still in his office, in the pizzeria. Except... not. The world was shadowed in a greyscale and strangely muddled at the edges.

Mike looked around, but Foxy was nowhere to be seen. He stood and peered out the door the animatronic had come running through just moments ago, "Hello?"

"**_Michael._**"

Mike jumped, heart pounding and turned, a hand pressed to his chest. He frowned, "What the fuck?"

A formless featureless figure stared up at him, wisps of dark shadow peeling off to melt into the pale world around them. Wide glowing white eyes stared up at him, tears spilling silently down what appeared to be its cheeks. Mike had recognized that voice. Except now it was clear and crisp and lacking its usual shitty quality... but it couldn't possibly be... he glanced toward the back of the wall where the Golden Freddy suit usually appeared.

The thing spoke again, it's voice firm and filling the room even though the dark figure didn't speak through any mouth he could see, "**_Yes, Michael. It's Me._**"

Mike took a step back, "B- but you're just- you're not real-!"

The figure didn't move a muscle, only staring upwards, "**_I am quite real. But that's not important right now. Right now, We need your help, Michael._**"

"...We?"

"**_Yes. I and the rest of the animatronics._**"

Mike decided fuck it. This might as well be happening, but like hell was he going to be helping out these things, "Are you serious? I'm not helping you or any of the Fazfucks." He winced at his own words, his head aching at the noise.

The figure finally moved.

It fucking _giggled_, small hands clutching its stomach as it doubled over in peals of laughter. When it finished, it spoke softly, this time in a child's smooth soprano, "_I like you. You're funny, Mike._"

Mike gaped, "What the fuck? I don't-"

"**_Michael. I am not the Child._**"

The thing, the- the Child's face split, grinning widely- too wide, a slash of white in the expanse of dark, "_My name is Ben._"

His confusion must've shown on his face. Ben pressed a hand to his chest and a golden ball of light filtered through its- his fingers, a shining string connecting it to him. The ball pulsed, "_**Thank you, Benjamin.**_"

He smiled, or as well as one could without a proper mouth, at the praise, round eyes turning into thin slits of delight.

Mike wanted to bolt out the door, but where would he go? This even more nightmarish version of the pizzeria, if that was possible, seemed to end just outside the office doors. Besides, the hammering in his head made him want to remain as still as possible.

"_Mike, are you alright?_"

Mike snickered hysterically, "Just golden."

"**_Michael, stay with me._**"

Mike squinted at him, his skull felt like it was splitting open, "Why am I here?"

The golden light flickered, "**_It's a long story, Michael, and not mine to tell. This is about the animatronics. I can help you make peace with them. To hold your own._**"

Was it just him or was the whole room flickering in and out, "And this- this is an equal exchange thing right?"

"**_I can't help you unless you let us in._**"

Ben smiled sadly at him, pupil-less eyes bright, "_Just take my hand, Night Guard. Goldie will take care of the rest._"

"How do I know I can trust... you... whatever the fuck you are?"

"**_You are our last chance, our last resort. We need you just as much as you need us._**"

"What does _that_ mean?"

"**_You're an asshole, Michael._**" Ben snickered as he continued, "**_But Benjamin believes that you will save us. I'm willing to take that chance._**"

"Wait I- I think we need to go over a few things before we do... whatever the fuck it is that you want me to do-"

The lights blinked out. Ben's white eyes were the only thing that could penetrate the thick darkness, that and the golden light filling his palm, "_Take my hand, Mike!_"

"**_We're out of time, Night Guard._**"

"_Take my hand!_"

Mike took it, palm closing around the ball of golden light and Ben's shadowy fingers.

The last light went out.


End file.
